


a long road up to recovery

by stefonzolesky



Category: Arrested Development
Genre: F/M, Misgendering, Trans Male Character, also there's alcohol, be careful y'all, gob's a clueless fuck, it starts out a bit ooc for michael but I think I fixed it by the end, michael hits gob at one point, title from recovery by frank turner, trans michael this time, tw uh abuse/??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-22 14:02:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11968914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stefonzolesky/pseuds/stefonzolesky
Summary: 'cause broken people can get better if they really want to(or at least that's what i have to tell myself if i am hoping to survive)





	1. Chapter 1

Gob doesn’t expect his younger sister to come running to him, tugging on his arm and crying. He genuinely doesn’t expect  _ anyone _ to come running to him in tears, because he doesn’t see himself as qualified to help.

“I hate it, Gob,” She mumbles. She’s wearing a baggy shirt that looks like it doesn’t belong to her (Upon further inspection, Gob realizes that it’s his shirt, but he doesn’t mention it) and a pair of Buster’s shorts that somehow fit her despite him being four years younger than her.

Gob is completely at a loss for words, because since when has she wanted help from him? 

He finally settles with a concerned, “C’mon, what’s wrong?” and she clings to him for dear life, too upset to answer. So he tries again. “Talk to me. I won’t tell mom and dad.”

“Promise?” She manages through her tears, sniffling quietly. Gob nods.   
  
“Promise.” 

So Gob leads his twelve-year-old sister to the couch and sits her down next to him, completely unsure of how to handle the situation.

“I just--” Her voice sounds so heavy, and she coughs. “I don’t like it. I don’t like growing up. Mom says--” She hiccups. “Mom says I’ll grow up to be a-- a beautiful young lady but I don’t  _ want _ that.”

“What  _ do _ you want, then?” Gob keeps his voice low, and  _ wow _ , being sympathetic and caring really isn’t his forte. “There’s not much else you can get.”

“I  _ know, _ ” She whines, finally starting to calm down a little bit. “And that’s  _ bullshit.”  _

“Hey,” Gob presses his lips together, tight. “I’m sure it’ll all be fine. Do you know what you want?”

“I keep wishing I was you,” She admits, her voice only wavering a little at this point. “And I hate that, because everyone’s always like, ‘love yourself,’” She pauses. “Well, mom and dad and Lindsay aren’t, but that’s what they tell us at school. I just keep wishing I was someone else, a-and being you would be so much nicer.”

“But you’re not me,” Gob mumbles. “I’d love the attention you get, believe me. In all honesty? I’d trade.”

“If we could, I’d do it in a heartbeat,” She coughs, and it shakes her frame. “I just… I don’t like it. I don’t like being  _ me. _ ”

“But you can’t be someone else,” Gob’s eyebrows furrow together. “What do you not like about being you? Maybe it’s something we can work on. Or-- Or-- Or you can get comfortable with.” 

“I’m sure I could,” She looks like she wants to say more, but she doesn’t, and Gob can’t help but get a little upset, because how is he supposed to help her if she doesn’t tell him what’s wrong?

“Let me know when you feel like you can tell me,” He finally tells her, unsure of what else to say.

“Okay,” She nods, but it doesn’t look like she’s gonna tell him. After a moment of silence, she speaks up timidly. “Can you cut my hair for me?”

Gob tries not to look surprised, though that’s exactly what he is. “Uh, are you sure you trust me with that?”

His sister nods. “You’re the only one that can do it how I want. Everyone else wants me to keep it long, or-- Or make it more girly,” She tugs at a loose strand of hair. “You’re the only one who’ll listen to... what  _ I _ want.”

“Okay,” Gob nods, though he’s hesitant. “Okay, when do you want me to cut it?”

“Can you do it now?” Her confidence is coming back. Gob gives a faint nod and stands up.

Gob has honestly never seen his sister happier. She stands up after him, ignoring the tear stains on her face completely and offering him a big, toothy grin.

So Gob cuts his sister’s hair off, and she smiles wider than he’s seen her smile in a long time.

Lucille isn’t smiling when she finds them. 

“What did you do?” She snaps at the young girl, and she recoils. Gob swallows his pride and steps forward.

“ _ I  _ did it, mom,” He says softly. Lucille’s hard gaze turns to him. “I cut her hair.” 

The look of surprise that crosses both of their face’s is incredible, in all honestly. Lucille stares at him with disgust -- Gob knows that he’s not her favorite child, and he never will be. His sister stares at him because he’s never stuck up for her like that, kept her from getting in trouble like that.

It’s a pretty new experience for him, he has to admit. He’s sure that the repercussions will be worth it, though. At least, he hopes so. If it isn’t, he’s about ready to strangle his sister.


	2. Chapter 2

They don’t talk about it for a little under a year. A week after Gob’s sister’s thirteenth birthday. She pulls him aside, a frown pulling on the corners of her lips.

“Can you call me Michael?” She blurts. Gob takes a few steps back.

“What?” His eyebrows furrow, and his sister --  _ Michael? _ \-- repeats herself.

“I  _ said,” _ She mumbles. “Can you call me Michael? Like… Like, not in front of mom or dad-- Or-- Or anyone, really. But…” 

It's about then that Gob realizes that she's crying. He panics for half a second, and then wraps her into a tight hug.

“Don't cry,” He requests softly, but he doesn't think it's gonna help. “I'll do it. Alright? You want me to call you Michael? I'll do it.”

Michael sniffs softly, burying her face into his neck. He can feel her crying against his skin.

Her hair has grown out over the last year or so. It falls above her shoulders, and Gob can tell just how much she hates it.

"Want me to cut your hair again?" He finally offers, his voice quiet. Michael nods quickly, moving to look him in the eye.   
  
She looks a whole lot happier with short hair. Gob gets some sense of pride, because he was the one that did that. Lucille yells at him again, but he realizes that it’s totally worth it.

Gob has a lot of emotions. He can admit that. He just wants to be appreciated, to be thanked. Even when he’s in the wrong; when he’s made a mistake. Michael is just the opposite. 

Gob has seen her cry maybe three times in her life. She’s good at keeping her emotions in check, so long as he isn’t provoking her. And he’s been trying to do that less lately -- he can’t help it if George plants something in his head, but he’s been trying his hardest.

But Michael’s eyes still water sometimes when Lucille is upset at her, and they go bright when Gob pulls her aside and tries his hardest to cheer her up. 

(Which admittedly, he isn’t the best at, but just using the name ‘Michael’ tends to do the trick pretty well.)

“Hey, Mike--” Gob furrows his eyebrows, knowing he’s stepping on thin ice there. “Can I call you that? Mike? Can I--”

“ _ What?” _

Lindsay’s voice comes sharp from the doorway. Michael tenses up. “Yeah,” She whispers, so only Gob can hear. Lindsay cocks her hip to the side.

“Mike?” She laughs. “I ought’a tell mom.”

“She’ll be mad ‘cause she wants to be called Mike -- Michael?” Gob stands up from his bed, and he’s taller (and older) than Lindsay, she should be cowering. Lindsay just laughs again.

“We’re talking about the same person here, right?” She lifts an eyebrow and then sits on the end of the bed. “Mom will be  _ pissed.” _

Michael’s eyes are watering, and Gob isn’t sure what to do, because he knows he’s terrible at affection. “Don’t tell her, Linds,” She practically begs. Gob sends Lindsay a look, and he puts all his energy into it.

It’s supposed to read  _ don’t tell mom, I don’t want her to hurt Michael any more than she already has. _

Lindsay gets the message. He  _ thinks _ she does, at least.

After a moment of silence, she speaks up. “We’re not so young, you know. And  _ she _ especially isn’t.”

It takes Gob a little too long to realize that Lindsay is talking to him.

“What? I know.” He jumps to defense, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know. They’re both two years younger than him, they  _ are _ that young.

“She’s right,” Michael manages. “You’re both kind’a right. Dad wants me to be the smart one. Gotta do a lot of growing up pretty fast for what he wants.”

“You’re  _ thirteen _ .” And Gob laughs, because their parents are such douchebags, taking this thirteen year old girl and trying to shape her into what they want. They’re douchebags for that, and they’re douchebags for the way they treat Lindsay.

And for a second, Gob thinks maybe for the way they treat him, too. But that can’t be right. Because his parents are right about everything they say to him.

“Right.” Lindsay’s gaze bounces between them. “Well,  _ Michael. _ I guess I won’t tell mom.”

Gob catches the nearly hidden smile on her face as she leaves the room.


	3. Chapter 3

“You can’t keep doing this,” Michael presses. Her voice is a hushed whisper through her teeth, and Gob just puts the bottle of vodka to his lips. 

“Watch me,” He says, and opens the door to their house as silently as he can. Michael slips through the crack before him and stands in front of him. She’s a few inches shorter, but so much more intimidating then she should be.

“ _ Gob,” _ Michael says, and her voice sharpens around the edges. She gives a huff as Gob pushes past her and off towards the street. “Where are you even going?”

“Not sure!” Gob  _ laughs _ , grinning so wide that it’s starting to hurt his face. Why can’t Michael see that this is a great idea?

Michael huffs. “Dad’s gonna kill you,” She tries to reason with him. “He’ll hate it. You won’t be able to go anywhere anymore.”

“It’s not like he lets me go anywhere in the first place.” Gob takes another swig of the vodka. “Besides, it’s not like I haven’t gotten away with this before.”

Michael’s face warps, and she moves to grab the bottle of vodka from his hands and smash it on the ground. The remainder of the liquid splatters across their feet. “You’re so frustrating, Gob!” She shouts, her face pink and full of rage. 

Gob falters. His voice goes quiet. “Go back home, Mikey. I’ll be back by the morning.”

Michael stares at him, her face still twisted and red. “I--...” She frowns and then her expression softens. “Fine. Fuck up your life, see if I care. I’ll see you… whenever.”

Gob watches her go, and the guilt settles down in his stomach. He realizes a little too late that he should have stopped her.

He wakes up by the highway with a pounding headache. It’s disorienting, to say the least, and he doesn’t remember falling asleep. The sun is too bright and there’s birds -- birds that are too loud. Cars rushing past. 

He blinks awake and winces at every passing car. 

It’s a tough walk --  _ trudge _ \-- home, but he gets there. George and Lucille don’t bat an eye at his absence. 

Michael, on the other hand, seizes his upper arm and drags him to her room.

“What were you thinking?” She slaps him upside the head. “Asshole.”

Gob winces at the blow, squeezing his eyes shut. “Sorry!” His voice is rough. He knows he deserves the hit. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“You’d better be fucking sorry.” Michael runs a hand through her hair, frustrated. “You could have  _ died _ , Gob! You could have died.”

“I know.” Gob cracks open his eyes and studies Michael’s face. “I know. But it wouldn’t be too much of a loss, would it?”

Michael’s jaw drops. She brings a hand to her own forehead and then slaps him upside the head again. “You’re an asshole, Gob!”

“Exactly my point.” Gob rubs where she slapped him. “Ouch.”

“Sorry.” Michael sounds guilty, but she huffs. “You just can’t pull shit like that. You can’t… just do that!”

Gob sighs. He lets out a heavy breath through his nose. “You’re right! You’re right. Sorry. I just… there’s a lot going on. Right now. I’m going through a lot.”

Michael stares at him blankly, and then lets out a bitter laugh. “You think you’re the only one going through shit right now, Gob? Guess what: you aren’t. Other people have problems too.”

Gob is afraid that Michael might hit him again, but then there’s a knock on the door, and both of them jump. 

Lindsay pokes her head in, and she hesitates before she speaks. “...Michael. Lay off him a bit, alright?”   


“Since when do you stick up for him?” Michael laughs, bitter, and Gob feels his chest start to close up because  _ fuck, she hates him now.  _

“We all want out of this god forsaken house, Michael. We all do.” Lindsay laughs, and her tongue is finally loosening up to calling Michael, well,  _ Michael _ after a year of knowing. “You can’t blame him for getting away for a night. Being too brave to do what all of us want.” She hesitates. “Well, all of us but Buster. Mom’s ruined him already.”

Gob wishes he could speak up, help defend himself the way Lindsay is defending him. Michael lowers her hand and mumbles an apology under her breath.

The mark where she slapped him still stings.


	4. Chapter 4

When Michael turns fifteen she becomes a lot more… distant. Moody. She doesn’t care as much for Gob, she only  _ kinda likes him. _

It hurts a little, but he can’t say he didn’t see it coming.

And Gob turns to alcohol. He turns to alcohol and staying out all night because it isn’t like his parents even notice that he’s gone, and if they do, they don’t say anything about it.

Michael is mad. Michael is always mad. But she never voices it how she used to, and honestly? Gob would prefer her yelling and slapping him with that annoyed look but still  _ caring _ than this… huffing and eyeing him like she’d rather he was dead than anything else. 

Gob wishes he could remember how he acts when he’s drunk. Maybe that would explain something, the way Michael glares at him. She didn’t used to. 

It’s Lindsay that brings something to his attention. They’re talking about Michael, and Lindsay is studying his face. 

“Maybe you should just… talk to him.”

And Lindsay has never been great at advice -- none of them have been. The reason the advice lingers in his head so long is the last part.

Talk to him.

Talk to  _ him. _

“What did you say?” Gob’s eyebrows furrow. Lindsay frowns.

“Sorry,” She says. “I thought you knew. Since he told you about wanting to be called Michael first and all.” She pauses, bouncing her leg. “It’s taking a lot to know and not rub it in Mom’s face or anything.”   
  
“Quite the liberal,” Gob notes, but his mind is racing. Why didn’t… he… say anything? Since Michael was twelve and…  _ he _ came to Gob about being uncomfortable in  _ his _ body. Since Michael turned thirteen and asked Gob about  _ his _ name. 

“Gob?” Lindsay cuts through his train of thought. “You alright?”

“What?” Gob blinks back to reality, trying to hide how startled he is. “Yeah. Fine. Just… it’s fine.”

“Alright.” Lindsay’s eyebrows shoot up for a moment. “But yeah. You should go talk to him. I think he needs to talk to… another boy. I can’t do much for him.”

“Right.” Gob feels tense, too tense, and his head is pounding. “Right. Another boy. Yeah. I should… yeah.”

Lindsay stands up and claps him on the shoulder. “You can handle this, Gob.”

Gob isn’t sure he can. 

“...Michael?” 

Gob knocks on the frame of the open door. Michael looks up from his desk, huffs, and looks back down. Gob frowns.

“I know you’re pissed at me. And-- And I know I can be slow sometimes. But…” He scratches absently at his nose, unsure of exactly what to say. “I don’t like this. Okay? It hurts, and I know… we kinda like each other, Mike. Right?”

Michael tenses up, and then he caves. “...Right.” He avoids making eye contact. “Right. Sorry.”

Gob bites back a sharp ‘ _ you should be’  _ and instead smiles in the direction of his younger brother. Michael chews on his lip hard, and Gob hesitates.

“Besides.” His grins grows tight. “What kind of asshole would I be if I let my little brother shut himself up in his room like this without saying anything about it.”

“Oh.” Michael’s shoulders slump. He looks down at the desk like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “Lindsay told you, didn’t she?”

Gob softens his gaze. “Yeah,” He admits. “But I should have figured it out sooner, or at least asked you.”

“Yeah.” Michael laughs. “You should have. But you didn’t. And you’re ruining your own life, Gob. You don’t really want me around, do you?”

Gob’s stomach twists at his brother’s words, and his chest clenches. He sucks in a tight breath, but it’s hardly enough. “Of course I do.”

Michael shoots up so he’s standing. “Why don’t you ever listen to me, then?"

Gob flinches back, like he’s scared Michael might slap him. The younger boy hasn’t raised a hand.

_ Yet _ , Gob’s brain supplies, but he pushes the thought back nervously.

“Because, I--” His chest clenches even tighter and his breathing grows shallow. “I-- I just-- I--” He panics, and he doesn’t want to panic, and something spills out of his mouth but he has no idea what he’s saying. 

Michael looks impatient, and that only makes Gob stutter more, what he assumes is incoherence. He can’t breathe, he can’t, and his tongue feels like it’s swollen and clogged his throat.

“Fuck--” He manages to gasp out, and this time, he can hear himself. A look of sheer panic finally washes over Michael’s face. 

And instead of staying to patch it up, Gob manages to lock himself in the bathroom. Every once in awhile, someone knocks, but he stays in long after he’s calmed down.

The floor is cold, but he still falls asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Lucille and George want Gob to move out. If it affected Michael positively, he would. And… if he had somewhere to go. But he doesn’t, and he likes to pretend that Michael wants him around.

Everything between them has been fixed, mostly. Gob still flinches when Michael’s upset, but now they address their problems like adults.

Gob  _ is _ an adult. It’s surreal. Somehow, it still feels like Michael is the older of them. 

Lucille doesn’t get mad when Michael cuts his hair short anymore. In fact, she even cuts it for him. Gob feels… less needed. More like he’s just kind of  _ there _ .

Maybe he  _ should _ move out. 

“What are you talking about?” Michael runs a hand through his hair messily, cheeks bright red and shoulders tense. “You can’t move out!”

“Why not?” Gob shrugs. “It’s not like anyone here needs me.”

Michael doesn’t say anything, he just stares ahead of him guiltily. Disappointment punches Gob in the stomach. So  _ that’s _ where being a total letdown gets you. 

He must have winced visibly, because Michael frowns. “I’m sorry. I don’t wanna lie to you. Everyone here  _ likes _ you, they just--”

“No, they don’t.” Gob shakes his head. _ Stupid Michael _ . “They don’t like me. You’re the only one that likes me. Everyone else hates me.”

“Well, maybe--”

“There’s not any getting around it.” A bitter laugh. “Sorry, Mike.”

Michael frowns deeper. After a moment of heavy silence, he mumbles “I’m sorry.”

Gob shrugs. “It’s fine. I’m used to being least liked, I get it. Mom and dad will just… stay on my ass if I don’t move out, because they’re sick of me. They want me gone.”

Michael hesitates. “…I need you,” He finally says. “I don’t like to admit it. But I need you. Especially at -- at this point in my life. Mom and dad, they don’t...” He falters. “And Lindsay. She forgets that I’m-- I’m not like her.”

“You won’t need me for long.” Gob hates that he’s tearing up, but he is, and for fuck’s sake, why does he have to be the emotional one? “It’s not like my being here helps anything. Mom and dad really want me out of here. Now that I’m old enough.”

“Since when have you been one to listen to mom and dad?” Michael’s tone goes bitter and sharp. Gob’s face immediately drops.

“You’re right, okay?” Gob sighs, and he isn’t sure if he’s giving in because he really believes it, or if he’s scared of what Michael might think. “But I think I should go.”

“Do a poll,” Michael blurts. “A vote for you to stay here another year. I’ll vote for you. You can vote for yourself. I’ll try ‘n get Buster to vote for you to stay, he’s easily influenced. And I’ll try to talk to Lindsay.”

Gob’s mouth feels dry. “Right. Okay.”  

So the poll comes. Gob reads the slips with sweaty palms, draws his own first.

_ Stay.  _

_ Move,  _ Lindsay.

_ Move,  _ his dad.

_ Move, _ his mom.

_ Move,  _ scrawled messily. With a crayon. Gob feels himself tear up.

_ Stay. _

Gob’s heart catches in his throat. Michael didn’t lie. Michael wants him to stay.

Michael is the only one who wants him to stay. It’s too bad he has to go.

“I’m so sorry,” Michael immediately apologizes while Gob is packing. “I thought they would listen to me.”

“Well, they didn’t.” Gob shrugs, but he’s angrily folding his clothes somehow. “I’ve gotta go.”

Michael falls quiet. And there’s so much in the air that neither boy will ever put into words, and that’s when Gob realizes that him and Michael… are brothers. They’re brothers. They get along, sometimes. 

That’s when he starts to cry. 

“I don’t wanna go, Michael,” He sniffs, rubbing his nose roughly. “I don’t wanna leave here.”

“I’m the only one that wants you to say,” Michael’s voice is soft. “I’m sorry, Gob. I thought…” He stops. 

Gob finishes packing eventually, and he leaves. He gets an apartment and a job, and it’s so  _ surreal. _

But it sucks ass. He works at a corner store and it smells like cigarettes all the time. He almost wishes he had the money to go to college. 

But it’s living, he’s living. He may not be happy, but he’s surviving. 


	6. Chapter 6

It’s a little over a year after he gets his apartment that Gob realizes Michael’s visits spread out. From every other day to once a week to once a month. 

And when it’s been a whole year since he’s spoken to his younger brother… that’s when he starts to worry. He calls Michael on his eighteenth birthday, no answer. 

Lucille says Michael’s in the hospital. Metal rod scraped through his chest, he barely survived. It seems implausible, but Gob goes to the hospital anyways. 

And sure enough, Michael is in a hospital bed. 

“Mom, I told you--” He cuts himself off when he sees Gob. He falters. “Oh. Hi.”

“Thought you liked me,” Gob says softly, sitting roughly down in a chair by the hospital bed. “And now you’re avoiding me.” 

Michael looks guilty, but he shakes his head. “I’m not-- Gob, I do like you. You’re my brother, ‘course I do.” His voice is rougher, lower. Like he’s sick or something.

“I haven’t seen you in a year, Michael.” Gob laughs bitterly. “You can just come out and say that you don’t want me around, you know. I get it. I don’t want me around either.”

“Fuck’s sake, Gob!” Michael laughs, strangled and tight. “I was avoiding you because I have a lot going on right now, you caught me. But it’s not because I don’t like you.”

“Mike?” A soft voice comes from the doorway. Both heads shoot up. Michael softens.

“Sorry,” He apologizes quietly, and it’s hard to tell if he’s apologizing to Gob or the girl in the doorway. She smiles warmly and Gob’s eyes narrow.

“Who’s this?” He gestures to the redhead. Michael smiles warmly and looks back at Gob.   


“That’s Tracey,” He seems genuinely happy. “My girlfriend.” He gestures for Tracey to come sit down. “Tracey, this is my brother Gob. The one I told you about.”

“Right.” Tracey sits down. “The one I’ve heard all about. Only sibling I’ve never met. Nice to meet you, Gob. I’ve heard a lot about you. Mostly good things.”

Gob slumps back in his chair. “I wish I could say the same to you.”

If Tracey is offended, it doesn’t show. She just smiles. 

The silence is awkward. Michael clears his throat. “Uh, Trace? Can you give Gob and I a second alone?”

Tracey nods and stands up quickly, head down as she leaves. Michael smiles after her.

“Girlfriend?” Gob raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell me you have a girlfriend. You don’t tell me a lot of things, though.”

Michael sighs, studying Gob’s face. “I’m sorry, alright? I’ve just… I wanted to surprise you, I think. I don’t know why I thought you’d be excited about this, and I’m on some meds, you’d make fun of me-- I…”

“What?” Gob shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right!” Michael laughs. “I’m a fuckin’ idiot. You probably heard I’m here from mom, right? The whole story about the metal rod or whatever. That’s not true. I’m just-- Yeah, that’s not the real story. I’m--”

Realization clicks in Gob’s head, a skill he’s finally built up after so many years. “You’re getting your tits lasered off?” He sits up a little straighter.

Michael snorts, obviously caught off guard. “Not exactly, but close enough.”

“Shame,” Gob slumps again. “You had some good ones.”

Michael’s nose scrunches up. “I’m your brother, that’s fuckin’ weird. Shut up.”

Gob just laughs, and he’s softened a bit. “Wish you would’ve told me.” He shrugs. “What are you gonna tell mom?”

“That they had to.” Michael almost-shrugs. “I lied about the metal rod thing, but I’m not stupid. Metal rod to the chest?  I tell her they had to do the surgery, or I’d die.”

“Not completely plausible,” Gob mumbles. “But mom and dad will believe it. They trust you. And they’re not the smartest.” 

“I guess.” Michael runs a hand absently through his hair. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen once I actually have to tell them.”

“I think you’ll be alright,” Gob says, because he really does think so. Lucille and George aren’t about to throw out someone they’ve shaped this much over something stupid. “If not, you can always come stay with me.”

“I’m old enough to move out, now.” Michael offers a sideways smile. “Not so little anymore.”

Gob hesitates before he speaks. “I know,” He says. “I just thought you might want to.”


	7. Chapter 7

Michael’s coming out isn’t too smooth. It’s rocky and sharp around the edges and Gob cringes a little as it happens from secondhand embarrassment.

It’s a wedding. And it’d be beautiful if Michael wasn’t stumbling over his words and George wasn’t asking so many questions and Gob didn’t accidentally set Tracey on fire, but their family has always been dysfunctional and there’s no reason to think that they might stop.

All in all, it’s wonderful. Maybe it’s not so pretty, and maybe it’s not so safe, but nothing says Bluth more than a wedding like this.

 

{fin}


End file.
